


The stories our father told us

by Hyperlizard



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperlizard/pseuds/Hyperlizard
Summary: Hanzo and Genji are kids. Then they grow up, get their dragons, and have to deal with life.Not sure how far this will go, but this prologue has been sitting in my folder forever and there will be more.
Kudos: 5





	1. Nightfall

_ Prologue _

Warm city lights twinkled around Hanzo; food stalls were closing up, the last of their mouthwatering scents wafting through the air. Streetlights sparked on one by one as evening settled slowly over Hanamura. As he stood fiddling with the sleeves of his dark blue yukata, Hanzo glanced up to see Genji, asleep on their mother’s back like a monkey. A stuffed dragon was safely tucked inside his brother’s shirt, purple fuzzy head poking from the collar as he rode piggyback. Genji shifted slightly, yawning as he was adjusted so his mother could more easily hold him. Their father stood a few steps away finishing a conversation with a friend, his soft words blending with the white noise of the city. With a final nod, he turned towards his family, smiling at each of them in turn. Hanzo reached up for his hand, marveling at how well his own fingers fit in his father’s warm, strong grasp. The family turned towards home, Hanzo stifling each yawn that arose. It had been a long day of walking around the city for food and visits to family friends, culminating in a play they had all gone to see for Children’s Day. In spite of barely stopping for hours, Hanzo was proud that he was the one still awake.

In the soft night air, koinobori fluttered above the family, the four of them slowly marching up the hill towards the castle – their home. With the soft night hovering around them, Hanzo felt that this was the right time to ask the question that had been on his mind for a while.

“Father?”

“Hmm?”

“Where are the stars?”

His father looked down at him. “What do you mean?”

“My books tell me there are supposed to be tiny white stars at night in the sky, but I can’t see them.” He glanced up toward the moon hovering in the west, then back towards his father.

“Ah,” Sojiro murmured, turning also to look at the darkening sky. “The stars are indeed far above us as your books tell you. They have always been there and always will. However, there is so much light in our city down here, so much brightness right in our faces, that we cannot see the smaller light of the stars. They are very far away you know, and these lights – ” he pointed to a buzzing orange streetlight overhead – “are much closer and brighter.”

“Oh,” Hanzo said, squinting at the sky. He frowned and fell silent, thinking that the stars should be brave and show themselves against the competition, not run away from the other bright lights down here.  _ Maybe one day, I can fly higher than the city - maybe in an airplane? Or on a dragon? And then I can see them, _ he thought, as he shuffled next to his father. It wasn’t long before the family arrived at the gates of their home and Hanzo could no longer hold back his shuddering yawns. Still gripping his father’s hand as he stumbled towards his bedroom, he thought of the empty black sky he saw every night, and how some little lights up there would be nice to see, if at least for some decoration. He climbed into bed next to Genji, imagining of the two of them flying above the city to point out stars to each other.  _ Maybe one day. _


	2. Dragons, summoned

Sojiro’s dragon was only summoned at the most appropriate of times - Hanzo could count on his fingers the number of times he’d actually seen it.

He had been four years old the first time. It was the new year’s celebration in Shimada castle, and those lucky enough to be there - mainly family and staff - buzzed through the courtyard as dusk fell, enjoying food around the bonfire that had been lit in the center. It was Hanzo’s first time at the ceremony, as his mother had deemed him old enough to stay up late, telling him it was a very important event. He had hummed with excitement all week, and now the smell of the wood smoke, new and strong and different, made him jump around his caretakers in glee. Soft lights had been strung around the courtyard to amplify the glow of the bonfire, which burned and snapped sparks into the cool night air as snatches of laughter floated between the guests. He followed his caretaker to a table where his mother stood talking with the cook, who was busy at his fire. Hanzo was waiting for his mother to finish speaking when a shout went up. 

All around the courtyard, talk quickly died down as heads turned toward the bonfire. From where he was, Hanzo saw a man standing in front of the fire with his arms raised. _That’s_ _Shiro_ , he thought with recognition, his father’s right hand man. He was unaware that the hanging lights were dimming until suddenly the area was dark, save for the orange-gold glow of the flames framing Shiro. 

Shiro began to speak, his deep voice echoing across the open courtyard. He spoke of the year before, the year to come, the time of celebrations, and the time spent between. 

And then Shiro stepped aside, and Sojiro appeared from behind the bonfire, face stoic and eyes narrowed. He was dressed in his kyudo archery clothing with a rich gold lamé obi that glimmered elegantly in the light of the fire illuminating his left side. Another man stepped before him holding a bow in one hand and a single arrow in the other. Everyone watched as Sojiro took the bow and held it briefly in front of himself. 

He then took the arrow in his hand, and in one swift, precise motion, nocked it and pointed it towards the sky. He paused; there was a beat of silence, but as Hanzo stared, the flames seemed to crackle more furiously and - maybe it was a trick of reflection, but his father’s eyes appeared golden. The next moment the cry echoed from Sojiro’s lips:

“The master calls forth the dragon!”

This time Hanzo was sure the arrow carried a glow too as it leapt from the string with a twang - and suddenly the arrow was gone, a long golden dragon in its place flying upward into the dark night sky. The bowstring’s sound seemed to stay and wash over Hanzo, resonating and buzzing through his ears and down to his toes. The dragon reached its apex and turned its head down, pausing a half second as its body formed an arch before twisting around on itself like a ribbon on a pole and then gliding out into a wider circle. It swept around the perimeter of the courtyard before suddenly leaping towards the middle and curling over itself. In intricate circles it danced above their heads, a short glow of sparks trailing just behind it so that Hanzo could barely tell where its body began and ended. The dance was dizzying, maddeningly beautiful, with more spirals than Hanzo could count. Time meant nothing as the dragon rolled over its audience through the air over and over - 

And suddenly Sojiro’s shout: “Return!” 

Obeying its master, the dragon danced to a spot directly over the flames before curving downwards and rushing toward the central bonfire. It opened its mouth in a silent roar - and with a flash, it flew headlong into the fire with an explosion of sparks. Golden embers leapt out and snapped at the ground near Hanzo’s feet. 

Applause rang out; Hanzo stood amidst it all; he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his mother smiling at him. She picked him up and carried him to Sojiro, now removing his glove. His father took him in his arms. 

“Did you enjoy that, Hanzo?” 

A nod.

“One day you will be able to do that as well. The dragons are a part of our family, and you will have your own. Tonight, they signify the beginning of a new year and growth for us.” Another nod. “Now, it’s time for bed.” Sojiro planted a kiss on his son’s forehead and passed him off to Hanzo’s caregiver.

It was hours before Hanzo could sleep, and when he did, he dreamed only of dragons. 

\----------

The next day at breakfast he begged his father to see it again.

“No Hanzo,” Sojiro said. The dragon does not need to be here now. It is my job to keep it until it is needed.”

“Where do you keep it?”

Sojiro’s face grew solemn. “It resides within me, Hanzo. It is a part of my spirit, passed to me from generations before. Someday, you, too, will be able to summon a dragon. It is a part of your spirit already.” He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “But it is your responsibility to learn how to call it forth. Dragons are not easy to tame.”

“How do I call it?”

“That, you must find out for yourself. It is an honor to control these dragons, Hanzo, but it is an honor you must carry alone.”

\----------

It was a year before Hanzo saw the dragons again. He was five now, old enough to hand his father the weapon of choice to summon the dragon. This year it was a katana. 

Shiro made Hanzo stand next to him during his speech, and the sword was heavy. Hanzo had been told to hold it flat in front of him and not to put it down, but these instructions were becoming increasingly difficult. When Sojiro appeared from behind the bonfire, Hanzo could not have been more relieved to bow and present the sword, stepping back from the heat of the flames as it was lifted from his hands.

He watched as Sojiro pulled the katana slowly from its sheath. Firelight caught the flat of the blade as he moved into a fighting stance, holding the sword in front of him, and turned to face the flames, closing his eyes.

The call. Did the blade glow from the fire or the dragon? The dance, and once again, as the dragon soared upward, a hum emanated from it, like a warm note struck on a guitar. Moments of glorious, frenzied dance before the dragon disappeared again and the normal world returned. The sword was sheathed and handed back to Hanzo, who handed it back to Shiro. As the crowd began to chatter casually again, Hanzo ran up to his father.

“Father, next year will I be able to call the dragon with you?”

Sojiro paused and turned to look at Hanzo.

“Hanzo, I have told you before. The dragons are not easy to tame. They were a gift to the Shimada clan, and they are a great responsibility. Until you learn the meaning of that word, you will not be able to summon them as I do.”

Hanzo had heard the word plenty, but wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. He nodded. “What should I do to learn the meaning? What do I have to do to get a dragon?”

His father laughed, and Hanzo felt a twinge of confusion. “You can only learn it with time. I can tell you, but it will mean nothing to you until you discover it for yourself. Keep working hard at your studies and perhaps you will come to learn it soon.”

“But how will I know?”

“You have to earn it, Hanzo. It comes with honor. You will know when your dragon is with you.”

Hanzo couldn’t wait.

\----------

Occasionally he would try to summon a dragon himself. A plastic training sword nicked from his training room would sit in his hand as he chanted his father’s words - “The master calls forth the dragon!” - over and over. Never anything, not a hint of glowing, no humming sound, but Hanzo’s inability wasn’t for lack of trying. Once, convinced he needed a real weapon, he tried to pick up his father’s katana that sat in its holder on the wall of the training room. It was too heavy for his six-year-old arms, and the weapons master, hearing sobs, rushed in to see the young boy on the floor, holding the end of a sheathed sword that had fallen on his foot. The sword was placed higher up after that.

He would dream at night about what the dragons were like – powerful, but calming. In the dream he would stand in the middle of a field and watch hundreds of them dance, never speaking, as they wove to and fro, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. They lashed about, whipping their tails, as their soft glow surrounded him. Occasionally he would ask his father again when he would get his dragon, and Sojiro would always insist  _ you must learn responsibility _ . There was a  _ reason _ he had to wait.

And so he waited, and practiced, and grew.


	3. Father's tale

Hanzo had brushed his teeth half an hour ago and was sitting in bed, reading. Reading what he could, since Genji’s shouts of protest echoed from the bathroom as their caregiver attempted to wash his face. It was another 15 minutes before his brother lay next to Hanzo in the bed, hugging his stuffed green monkey. Sojiro walked into the room a minute later, and Genji immediately threw the sheets off, stood up on the bed, and started jumping around, clutching his monkey and squealing for a story. Hanzo tried not to stick his tongue out at his brother; although he loved his father’s stories, Genji had done the same thing last night and Hanzo had been reading a particularly good chapter of his book and was loath to put it down. With some reluctance, Hanzo bookmarked his page and turned towards his father in anticipation. After a few threats of no story, Genji quieted down and Sojiro sat down in the chair facing their beds, steepling his hands under his chin and assuming his usual solemn storytelling look. As Hanzo fidgeted with the edge of his blanket, his father began to speak. 

“This story takes place in a time long ago, in a time when dragons still walked the earth as physical beings and killed humans for food and for sport. They were ruthless creatures, consuming all that stood in their path of survival and terrorizing whomever they liked. Humans, though not the dragons’ most hunted prey, frequently found themselves at the mercy of these omnipotent creatures. Fearful of the creatures that swarmed the air and earth around them, the people of earth lived in small caves and rarely travelled, reluctant to be further hunted by their foes. Their numbers slowly dwindled as the dragons’ grew, and ever more bloated stories of the fierceness of the beasts swept through the land. The people lived in constant fear of dragon attacks, with little thought for anything else.

It was at this time that Yume, the first leader of the Shimadas, took matters into her own hands. As the ruler of a small village only a day’s walk from the mountain upon which the dragons lived, she found the intense fear of her people dictated their daily lives, to the point where only the bravest ever stepped foot outside of their houses, and came to speak to her only about issues concerning dragons. Although this made for a meek and easy town to govern, Yume was disgusted.  _ Why,  _ she asked herself, _ must we change our lives so that these creatures may be comfortable and we are not? _ The dragons’ caves sat far, far atop the mountain - easy for the dragons to access by flight, but a climb no human had ever completed. The few who returned from failed attempts to climb claimed that the dragons hid in every darkened crevice at night, ready to devour whatever living thing crossed their path; they claimed that those foolish enough to try to climb to the top of the mountain would inevitably find their doom. Yume knew that, although the mountain was certainly a place to be wary of, it was the stories that were foolish - simply fear of the dark combined with inept travel preparation prompted these so-called explorers to return so soon. Yume knew a change had to be made.

She announced her intent to leave and climb the mountain a mere half hour before she left, so as not to cause her villagers to worry for days beforehand. Preparing her bags, she ignored the pleas of her people to stay in the safety of the village, declared no successor, and began to scale the mountain. It took ten days and ten nights to climb the rocky face. On the eighth day Yume began to feel the distinctive unnatural warmth of the dragons from above her, rather than the colder air of high peaks. On the ninth day, the roars of the dragons began to reach her ears, snarls and growls resounding off the rock and slight vibrations trembling beneath her feet. On the tenth day, she stopped in the evening, stowed her belongings in a crack beneath an outcropping that formed a small cave and fell asleep to the clamor of the dragons not far above her head.

Yume awoke early, and, breathing deeply, began to climb the short distance between to the mountaintop where the dragons resided. The shimmering heat wove the air into distorted patterns as Yume slowly chose her steps over the burning rocks. Finally, she reached over the last edge of rock and heaved herself onto a plateau. 

The barren ground stretched far in front of her, light brown rock spanning the length of her vision and vibrating slightly from the roars of yet-unseen dragons. As she began to walk across the rock, she noticed colored patches on the ground flashing here and there in the bright sunlight. Slightly blinded by the brilliance, Yume bent down toward the nearest one. The color was red, but not a solid red. It shimmered as if there were a thin rainbow film over its face. She picked it up and twisted it this way and that in the sunlight, marvelling at the beauty of what could only be a dragon scale.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the sun - and the scale became dull. Yume had only a second to realize what the shadow was before she fell backward as a heavy wind blasted into her. A roar burst forth and the air seemed to crackle with sparks, making the hair on her arms stand up, and a sound like a thousand rumbles echoed around her. It was as though she heard thunder off in the distance and yet simultaneously directly in her ear. Yume tried to catch her breath as she struggled to rise from the ground amid the sensory overload. As she lifted her head, she found herself face to face with a dragon.

Terrifying as it was, Yume kept her calm. The dragon’s face was at least double the size of her own body, and though it was red at first glance, she saw that its scales gleamed iridescent, green and pink flashes rolling across the surface. As it turned its eye toward her, Yume held its gaze unblinkingly. It opened its giant mouth to speak.

“A human dares come to us of its own free will? How unusual.”

Yume stood up fully and wasted no time in her reply. “Listen to me, dragon. For years now you have ruined our crops, our houses, and our people. What you devour is stolen and never returned. The lives you claim are unjustly taken. I will stand for this no longer!”

The dragon grinned, if the curling of its lips could be called a grin.

“Oh? I could kill you this instant.”

“You will not,” Yume declared, “because we are at an impasse. You gain nothing from slaughtering us, save a meal, and these meals are now dwindling from your greed. Our race does not wish to disappear, and neither do we wish to enter into war with you. I offer, therefore, a pact. We will work together - you will be invincible, but in return, you will help to protect us from danger.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw more dragons gathering round, interested in the only human to ever climb their mountain. One, a gold-scaled beast, hissed at her. “Already we fly through this earth invincible. What else would we gain from your kind?” 

“Knowledge,” Yume replied. “Together we can advance in ways impossible before now. We have writing to record your great deeds, and medicine to heal. You are able to fly and thus travel swiftly, and you can fight with vantage points unknown to us. Together we can explore and conquer.” 

Snarling, the dragons that had gathered round began to twist around Yume, scales glinting, claws flashing. Finally one of them broke the whirlwind and bent to Yume, “We will not. We do not care to know your petty people and ways.”

“Know me, then,” Yume said. She raised her arms toward the red dragon who still stared at her. “Know the pride in my people I carry and the history of my village!” Her voice grew louder. “Know my ability to fight! Know the dreams of my future! Dragons live only in the present, but humans,” she continued “live for more! Our passion for survival is stronger than any creature’s!”

The red dragon began to circle Yume, slowly.

“And if we form this pact,” it said, “will you honor it? Will you stand by this pride you claim, or will you attempt to turn on us at a moment’s notice?”

“Our bond will be sacred,” Yume replied, her eyes glinting in the light reflecting off the dragon’s scales. “I will allow no one to break it.”

With a whirl, the dragon circled her one last time before coming to rest in front of her. “I am curious,” it said. “I have never thought humans capable of holding the honor that dragons do, and yet you claim to be more honorable than us. I will make a deal. For one year I will accompany you to observe your way of life. If I find your honor sufficient, I will form this pact. If not,” it began to twist in a spiral, “I will destroy you and the village you hold dear.”

“No,” said Yume. “You may destroy me, but I will not allow you to touch my people.” 

Silence hung over the mountaintop as the dragon hung in the air. Suddenly, it let out a roar, echoing through every corner of the air.

“I accept this pact.”

\---

Yume returned to her village on the back of a dragon.

Together, Yume and the dragon formed a team unlike any other. Yume taught it how to make a fire, how to heal a wound. The dragon taught her meditation and the joys of flight. When the village was attacked, Yume stood strong against the enemy, refusing to yield and bringing her people victory. 

When the year was finished, the two approached each other. 

“After a year spent among your people, I find it difficult to imagine life as I saw it before,” the dragon said.

Yume bowed. “You have lived by my side for a year, great one, and I have lived by yours. I, too, have learned a great many things from you. I do not wish to break this bond we have formed.”

The dragon lowered its head, bowing back to Yume. “I shall tell my people what I have learned, and we will stop the reckless destruction of your people. But before I go, I leave you this.” Gently, it touched Yume’s forehead with its head, and a glow of light hovered between them for an instant.

“I have left a part of the dragon soul with you. Should you need, you can call upon it to aid you. Now I must see my own brethren, but I shall return.” It flew off, tail whipping behind it, to return to the mountaintop.

Sojiro paused here to take a drink of water.

“For the rest of their lives, Yume and the dragon had a bond like no other. Yume was able to call upon her dragon to aid her when necessary, and this bond between human and dragon was passed through the generations of Shimadas. To this day, we still each learn to call our dragon, once we are worthy of honor.”

Genji was asleep. Hanzo still gazed at his father, wishing there was more story. “And all that matters,” Sojiro said, as if reading Hanzo’s mind, “is the honor  _ you _ will learn.” With that, he patted Hanzo’s knee. “Good night my son,” he said, and picked the sleeping Genji up to carry him to his room. 


End file.
